


The World Has Not Gone Dead

by DefaltManifesto



Series: Becoming a Pack [22]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Heavy Petting, Survivor Guilt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Use of Wolsbane as self harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:16:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2028171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefaltManifesto/pseuds/DefaltManifesto
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following the events of driving off a pack of werewolves and a family of hunters, Erica starts dealing with her guilt in the most unhealthy of ways. When she runs into Stiles doing just the same thing, they begin to realize that maybe they've been going about it the wrong way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The World Has Not Gone Dead

**Author's Note:**

> So a note about the self-harm tag: Erica and Stiles both willingly seek abuse at someone else's hands. If that sort of thing is uncomfortable for you, I would advise against reading this fic as it is very heavily referenced and talked about. 
> 
> Title is from I Want To Know Your Plans by Say Anything. The fic was written while listening to Cemetery by Say Anything. Comments are loved.

[The Tumblr](http://schizzar.tumblr.com)

 

Erica opened her window, the slide of wood and metal silent after so much sneaking out. The moon was just a small sliver in the sky, so the wolf was far from her instincts. Lately though, she found herself wishing it was always the full moon. At least then, her actions would be full of confidence, no doubt to make her hesitate as she flung herself off the roof and loped across the backyard to launch over the fence.

She stuck to backyards until she was out of the suburbs. There, she finally moved to the sidewalk instead, tugging Isaac's jacket tighter around her shoulders. The heels of her boots clicked loud on the ground in the dead air, at least until she got further into the city. There, the sounds of the nightlife drowned out her presence.

This side of Beacon Hills was a place she and the pack avoided since Derek finally stopped living in the streetcar. It wasn't particularly dangerous, not to them anyways, but it was a bit depressing to walk through. There were whores and drug dealers, wasted alcoholics and strung out drugees that curled up in alleyways and street corners. Her blue corset attracted the attention of more than one man and numerous women, but she pulled out of their grasps without a second glance.

She knew exactly where she was going.

Erica turned down an alleyway and reached into the pockets of her black skinny jeans. She pulled out a bag of purple powder, stolen from the Argent's basement. Wolfsbane. Small doses so she wouldn't poison herself, but at least kill her werewolf strength so she could temporarily be on the same level as the other humans.

She dabbed her finger with the powder and popped it into her mouth, then another two times before putting it back in her pocket. The wolfsbane tasted foul, and as it sunk in through her gums and tongue, pain began to spread through her limbs, a tingling sensation that built and built before cresting and she crumpled to the ground. Erica took a deep, shuddering breath as the pain faded away and trembling weakness set in.

Once she was able, she got to her feet and continued down the alleyway to the entrance of the bar. She flashed her fake ID and the bouncer nodded her in without a second glance.

The bar wasn't that crowded, a few people playing pool, a few others drinking at the bar and scattered tables, with the last few playing darts. Erica headed for a large man sitting in the middle of the bar, hopping up onto the seat beside him. She shed Isaac's jacket and tossed it onto the actual bar before looking over at the man.

"We expecting some action tonight?" she asked, letting her tongue flick out to wet her lips.

The man, Lewis, sighed and turned to give her his full attention. "You can't get enough of this life, can you?"

Erica rolled her eyes and pulled off Lewis' baseball cap to reveal his short red hair that tapered off into a brown, bushy beard, then placed the cap on her own head. "Just tell me if I've wasted my time coming out here. And if I did, I'll take your hat as my consolation prize."

"You didn't waste your time. We stole Caden's car battery and left a note. He'll be here, nice and angry," Lewis said. "You want a beer before we get started?"

Erica placed the hat back on Lewis' head. "No thank you, dear."

Before she could say anymore, the bar door slammed open, and Caden stormed in followed by his usual groupies and a few stragglers she couldn't recognize in the dim light. She wasn't concerned. She could handle whatever was thrown at her and if she couldn't, well, she deserved the consequences.

After the fight, she would share drinks with these men and women. They were like her after all; a group searching for a way to break up the monotony of their lives, or in her case, searching for a way to feel like they were about to die just as a reminder that that they were alive. Stealing a car battery was just an excuse for them to spend some time trying to kill each other.

Caden and Lewis exchanged a few angry words and then all at once, the fight broke out. Erica hopped off her seat, taking cool and measured steps to reach the pool table before taking one of the smaller, abandoned pool cues. She whirled on her heel when she heard someone behind her. Without her werewolf senses though, she wasn't nearly fast enough, and a fist drove into her jaw with enough strength to send her down to the ground before she could move. She swept the pool cue out to slam it into the back of her attacker's knees, then yanked forward to send the man sprawling.

She opted for abandoning the pool cue and hauled herself up onto the pool table instead. Two quick strides took her across it and then she sprang onto the back of one of the men nearby, hooking her legs around his chest and fisting her hands in his hair. He scrabbled at her legs, trying to get a grip on the tight jeans only to fail. She yanked back, sending them crashing into the pool table. She wiggled up and drove her knee into his face before scrambling onto all fours to jump away.

A hand wrapped around her boot and yanked her backwards though and her fingers scrabbled helplessly at the material of the table. Were she a werewolf, her claws would have helped root her in place, but as it was she was dragged back and off the table before being thrown to the ground, a foot driving into her ribs as she collapsed. Erica bit at the inside of her cheek to muffle her cry, latching to the man's leg instead and sinking her nails as best she could into the back of his knee.

It was enough to make the knee give and she used the opportunity to roll under the table. She sucked in a few deep breaths, ribs protesting the action, before dragging herself out from underneath the table. Lewis and Caden had one another in a chokehold off to the side, which was more than definitely not her business, so she turned to the right instead to see what else there was for her to get in the middle of.

"Stiles?"

Stiles had his hands up beneath a pool cue, holding it away from crushing his windpipe with straining muscles. His eyes went wide when he saw her, and Erica glanced up at his attacker, one of Lewis' friends. The man had blood streaming down his face from his nose, doubtless some good jab Stiles had managed to land. She growled, the sound lost in the fray without her werewolf powers to amplify it, and then she was tearing across the ground.

Her fist smashed into the man's nose, sending him reeling back from the added pain. The pool cue dropped and Stiles caught it before spinning on his heel and smacking the man across the face with enough force to send him to the ground with a dull thud. Erica wrapped her hand around Stiles' wrist and yanked him away from the fight and back towards the entrance into the alley. They stumbled together passed the bouncer and further away from the street until finally, Stiles pulled himself free from her grip and they both faced each other, leaning up against opposite walls panting for breath.

Blood was splattered over Stiles' shirt and his nose was bleeding. Erica held a hand up to her own nose, grateful that there was nothing coming from it despite how it ached. She dropped her hand to her throbbing ribs instead.

"Your nose is bruised," Stiles said. "Why aren't you healing?"

"What the fuck are you doing here, Stiles?"

"What am I doing? What are you doing?"

They glared at each other, each holding their respective injuries, each not wanting to be the first to admit.

"I...I took some wolfsbane. Powder form," Erica said. "To put myself on their level." She jerked her head towards the bar.

"Are you insane?" Stiles demanded. He lurched fully upright, making to grab her shoulders before stopping, not wanting to make her injuries worse. "What the fuck, Erica?"

"I answered your question, you answer mine," Erica said. Her arms were tingling again, a sign that the wolfsbane was beginning to wear off.

"I..."

Their eyes met across the way in the flickering lamplight that scattered its way down the alley from the street. She saw reflected there in his eyes the same deep, gnawing guilt that she was _alive_ and so many of the rest were _dead_ because of what they had done. Almost half a pack, half a family, a hunter who's death was squarely in Stiles' hands and no one else's and-

"Stiles..." She reached out to him at the same time he reached to her and they collapsed against one another, shaking.

They slid down to the ground, their sobs silent even as they wracked through their bodies. She clung hard to him, biting at his shirt as her tears fell hotter and faster from her eyes, streaking her mascara and soaking into his shirt as his own tears splashed against the bare skin of her shoulders. For a long few minutes, neither of them moved, their fingers almost bruising one another's flesh from how tightly they clung.

Eventually, Erica got to her feet, though her legs did tremble and wobble. She stepped away from Stiles, passed the bouncer who didn't give her a second glance and back into the bar. She stepped over a few of the passed out bodies, navigating around the rest of the brawlers with practiced ease until she was at the bar. She grabbed Isaac's jacket and tugged it hard around her shoulders, breathing in his scent, before heading back outside.

Stiles was on his feet and he held his hand out to her. She took it, squeezing tightly as they headed back to the main road. They didn't speak as they walked, though eventually he dropped her hand in favor of wrapping his arm around her waist. She rested her head against his shoulder as they walked, the sudden loss of adrenaline making her feel weak and tired. He kissed her temple when she started to cry again.

"Where are we going?" she asked in a hoarse voice.

"Honestly, I'm not sure. Where should we go?"

She wanted Isaac, but Isaac was gone with Jackson and Derek for another week. She pressed tighter into Stiles' side. "Let's go to Boyd's."

"Alright."

Erica pulled away then, completely, leading the way with strides that grew more confident as she walked. She was scared of what Boyd would say when she and Stiles showed up as they were. She could feel the wolfsbane wearing off after all, but it would still be awhile before it wore off enough for her healing to kick in.

"Erica, what do you...feel guilty about?" Stiles asked.

The world was quieter now that they had reached the suburbs, and his words almost seemed too loud. Erica wrapped her arms tighter around herself as she let the question echo around in her mind, trying to find the right words to really describe the feeling that had been festering inside of her for so many weeks.

"Surviving," she said after a moment. "I sunk my claws into Aspen's stomach, and I felt her blood all over my hands and I _didn't care_ , Stiles. Sure, I didn't kill her, but if Chris hadn't shot her, she'd have died from those wounds. And Olivia..."

Stiles' back stiffened and his arm reached out to wrap around her waist once more.

"I almost killed her too," she whispered. "I lost control and for a moment I wanted her dead. I had all these thoughts in my head and yet...I'm the one that survived. I'm...I'm a monster, Stiles, and I'm the one that's still alive."

She started crying again and she buried her face in his neck, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders. The wolfsbane continued to wear away, her body finally kicking into gear to heal the aching ribs and nose, and as her body healed she became aware of another scent, just behind her. Erica ripped away from Stiles, whirling around to see Boyd standing a safe distance away at the streetlamp outside his house, hands in his pockets.

He headed towards them, glancing over his shoulder at his house. Once he was closer, Erica threw herself at him. Boyd's arms nearly crushed her as they wrapped around her middle, cradling her close in his huge warmth.

"Could hear you from my room," he mumbled in her ear. "You should have said something..."

"I'm sorry..."

He released her and looked at Stiles. "And you. You should have said something too."

Stiles ducked his head. "Sorry..."

"Now you guys wanna come inside and tell me why you look like hell and smell like a gross bar?" Boyd asked, raising an expectant eyebrow as he glanced at them both.

"Your parents awake?" Erica asked.

"They're asleep. We can sneak in through my window," Boyd said. He took her hand and then reached out to take Stiles' too and then led them around the side of his house to the back. His window was still open and he pulled himself inside before helping Erica and Stiles in as well.

Erica crawled up onto Boyd's bed, zipping up Isaac's jacket as she did so to wrap herself in a cocoon of safe warmth and smells. Boyd moved to sit beside her and Stiles sat on her other side. A few minutes passed with no one saying anything and then Boyd shifted to wrap her hand in one of his bigger ones.

"It's called survivor's guilt, what you're feeling," Boyd said. "Sure you didn't lose any friends but people are still dead and it could've easily been us. It's fine. How you're dealing with it isn't though. What exactly are you two doing anyways?"

"There's these clubs," Stiles said when Erica remained silent. "Like. Fight clubs only minus the insane amount of secrecy. Just. Drunk people, miserable people. They make up reasons to get pissed at each other so they can have out and out brawls. I...didn't realize Erica was in one until we ran into each other tonight."

"Well that's fifty levels of fucked up," Boyd said, but his tone was far from judgmental. "Why'd you go and join it, Stiles?"

Stiles leaned into Erica, eyes closing as he rested his head on her shoulder. "Because I should be dead. And because I killed someone and if I'm not going to be put out of my misery I might as well let someone beat the shit out of me for it. It's the least I deserve."

Erica's heart clenched tight and she broke away from Boyd to tackle Stiles onto the mattress, pinning his arms beside his head as she stared down at him. "Don't you dare say that. You did what you had to, Stiles. You had to survive and that's what you did, there's nothing wrong with that."

"Yeah? And what about you?" Stiles shot back, eyes angry.

Erica shook her head. "This is about you. You don't deserve to get the shit beat out of you because you didn't do anything wrong."

"And neither did you," Stiles said.

"There you go," Boyd said. "Glad you both came to that conclusion."

Erica stared down at him. Boyd was right. They had both said what the other needed to hear, but it didn't change anything, and she could tell looking into Stiles' eyes that it hadn't changed anything for him either. She eased off of him and turned back towards Boyd.

"It's not that easy," she said.

"I know," Boyd said. "But maybe if you two say it enough, you'll start to believe it."

Stiles sat up and wrapped his arms around Erica's waist, pressing up snug against her back before hooking his chin over her shoulder. "Yeah, maybe. You're not going to...tell anyone about any of this, are you?"

Boyd shook his head. "As long as you two stop letting people kick the shit out of you, then I won't say a word. But I'm going to be paying attention now so don't try and sneak it passed me. It won't work."

"He's right," Erica said with a nod. "He's better at catching people in lies than the average werewolf."

"Do you guys want to stay here tonight?" Boyd asked.

"Nah, I should get home. My dad will be home in a few hours," Stiles said. "Thanks for...listening."

"Not a problem," Boyd said. "What about you Erica?"

Erica glanced over her shoulder at Stiles as he pulled away and get to his feet. "I'll go with him for now. Can I...see you tomorrow?"

Boyd nodded. "Yeah."

Erica crawled onto his lap, pressing her lips to his and squeezing his shoulders as she did so. Then, she moved away and hopped off the bed once more. "Thank you."

She followed Stiles out the window and back out to the main street. He grabbed her hand, twining their fingers together as they continued to walk, this time heading for Stiles' house instead. The air was crisp, a cold edge to it that she always hated in the winter. It didn't come close to actually penetrating Isaac's thick jacket though.

"Do you want me to stay at yours?" Erica asked.

"If you don't mind..." Stiles said. "You should probably leave before my dad gets home though."

"More sneaking around," Erica said with a short laugh. "Because I struggle so much with that."

Stiles snorted. The rest of the walk was in silence, but Erica didn't mind it. Feeling Stiles' hand in hers was more than enough to keep her mind at ease for now. She knew if she started thinking too hard, that would change though, so as they headed up the stairs to his room, she pushed him up against the wall and sealed their lips together. Stiles went stiff for a moment, and then his hands was twisting in her hair and he was hauling her closer.

She jumped up and wrapped her legs tight around his waist, rocking up against him as she fought for dominance in his mouth and he tugged Isaac's jacket off of her shoulders. He stumbled forward and shoved her hard up into the opposite wall, lips falling to her neck with harsh and biting kisses that had her gasping and clawing at his back, shredding his shirt and pricking the skin beneath.

Stiles groaned at the feeling, the sound reverberating through her collarbone to echo through the rest of her. The high from the bar fight that hadn't quite crested came back full force as he tugged harder on her hair, hard enough to send a dull ache from her skull downwards. His teeth scraped against her neck again and she squealed, sinking her claws into the broad muscles of his shoulders and _Jesus when had he gotten those_?

Somehow they made it upstairs, though Erica was pretty sure his shirt was beyond any hope of being fixed. He dumped her on the bed and then began to struggle with the belt of his pants while she tugged at the laces holding her corset tight to her chest. She peeled it off and tossed it to the side as he kicked off his pants and then he was crawling over her, bracketing her in on the bed as their lips pressed together again.

His chest was littered with bruises and she pressed her fingers into them, watching as his eyes almost rolled back in his head. She sealed her lips over one of the larger ones near his collarbone and sucked hard while reaching down and tracing the shape of his hardening dick through his boxers. Stiles' shouted, hips jerking up into her grip as his hands slid back into her and began to tug, forcing her mouth away.

It took him quite a lot of effort, but Stiles managed to pin her to the mattress, riding out the rolls of her hips with moans stifled by her lips. His hands left hers and she left them stretched out above her head as he began to kiss his way down her chest, one hand trailing down to unbutton her jeans. He tried tugging them off, and even with her added effort, they remained stubbornly locked around her hips. Eventually he managed to tug them down to her ankles and they finally gave without warning.

He almost fell off the bed and Erica scrambled to the edge of it, the tension that had been winding tighter in tighter suddenly breaking in a gasping laugh. Stiles tossed her jeans to the side and began to laugh as well. Before long though, their laughter grew more hysterical and turned to tears. It was almost too much for her to handle, so she climbed down off the bed and wrapped herself around Stiles. They clung to each other as they had in the alleyway, and slowly but surely the tears dried up once more.

Erica pulled back and wiped at her tears, then brushed her thumbs under his eyes to wipe his away as well. "We're a mess."

"Yeah, yeah we are," Stiles said with a watery smile. "We probably shouldn't...keep doing this."

"Not like this no," Erica said. "I...if we're going to have sex I don't want it to be like this..."

Stiles thunked his forehead against her collarbone and gave another shaky laugh. "Yeah, I agree. I also distinctly remember Catwoman and Batman never having this problem."

Erica pressed an exaggerated, wet kiss to his forehead, then ducked her head and blew a raspberry into his neck just like she used to. He smiled against her skin and rubbed a broad hand up and down her spine. "We're cooler than them anyways."

For a long while, they sat there, tangled up on his floor in only their underwear. Erica kept expecting it to start feeling weird but as the emotions and adrenaline finished draining out of her, all she felt was contentment. Under it lurked the guilt and worry but it was muffled by Stiles' presence and his warm arms wrapped around her.

"We're going to be okay, aren't we Stiles?" she asked, her voice not much more than a whisper.

"I don't know," Stiles said.

Silence hung between them for another heartbeat and then Erica pulled away and cupped Stiles' face in her hands.

"Then let's make a promise to each other," she said. "No more shady bar fights. When we feel like...this...we find each other."

"You have everyone else for that," Stiles said quietly. "Lydia and Isaac and Boyd and Derek-"

"And you have Danny and Scott," Erica said. "But this...what we're feeling. We need each other to get through it, and that's okay. I'm not going to let you face it alone."

Stiles swallowed thickly and then nodded. "Okay. Promise."

She pressed their lips together and then got to her feet. She extended a hand to help him up as well. "You got a shirt I can borrow? I don't really feel like getting back into that stuff."

"Yeah, yeah." Stiles moved over to his dresser and fished out sweats and t-shirts for both of them.

After picking up and disposing of the clothing that was ripped beyond repair, Erica grabbed Isaac's jacket and tugged it back on. They relocated to the living room and Stiles put on the 2004 Catwoman movie. It was bad, but fitting, Erica supposed. They curled up on the couch and they didn't even get halfway through it before they both drifted off to sleep.

 

-.-

 

John Stilinski came home, fully expecting to see his son still awake. Stiles didn't do much in the sleeping department anymore, and after all he'd been through, John wasn't surprised. He hadn't expected to see Stiles curled up with Erica on the couch, both dead asleep. The credits for Catwoman were running. Part of him wanted to be the parent and wake them both up and demand that Erica go home.   

But for the first time in a long while, Stiles' face was relaxed, even in sleep. Erica's face was streaked with running mascara but she was deep enough in sleep that she had begun to snore. In the end, John turned the television off and draped a blanket over them. He could lecture them about impromptu sleepovers in the morning.


End file.
